Kristin Garth: Guillotine

Guillotine

​​She’ll say it is a guillotine, hotel 
room maid, first one inside this suite to scream.
Flees, frantic before anyone can tell 
it’s a bondage rack, mahogany beams

four women propelled from the parking lot,
at his behest, new dom who craves always 
the best theatrics. Bell boys he would not 
permit — submissives no one would forget. Day-

time, check-in, lobby collared help parades 
like, later, lawyer/fetishists to front desk — 
explain restraints with photos, rack sans blades,
ID’s displayed each youthful looking guest.

Prefers pain portable, dramatic scenes,
but he has no lust for a guillotine.

Kristin Garth is a Pushcart, Best of the Net & Rhysling nominated poet from Pensacola and a sonnet stalker. Her sonnets have stalked magazines like Five: 2: One, Yes, Glass, Luna Luna, Occulum, Drunk Monkeys, and other places. She is the author of eleven books of poetry including Pink Plastic House (Maverick Duck Press), Puritan U (Rhythm & Bones Press) and Candy Cigarette Womanchild Noir (The Hedgehog Poetry Press) and the forthcoming Flutter: Southern Gothic Fever Dream (TwistiT Press, 2020) and Dewy Decimals (Arkay Artists, 2020). Follow her on Twitter and her website.